


Mummy Holmes at Baker Street

by Consulting_Crazy



Series: Mummy Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Moriarty is a bastard, really he is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Consulting_Crazy/pseuds/Consulting_Crazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mummy Holmes drops by 221B at the start of a month long visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Mummy

**Author's Note:**

> My first Sherlock fic with any length to it. Hope you enjoy.

When Sherlock returned from his experiment for his latest case, he was greeted with a sight which he had never hoped to see. John was sitting in his armchair across from a woman with ash blonde hair. He could tell you the exact shade of her hair, and it wasn’t from any new observation, but rather years of seeing that hair, though now there was grey lacing the long strands. And when the guest turned to see what John was looking at as he entered, she smiled and got up quickly. Within a few steps, had enveloped him in her arms, ignoring the blood spattered over him. It’s not like her maid hadn’t perfected getting blood stains out of even the whitest of tops. She did tend to enjoy her job as much as he did his. He had learned such behaviors from her, after all.

“Mummy, what are you doing here?” Sherlock had asked in shock, “Did Mycroft tell you where I was?”

“Sherly, you know Mycroft doesn’t tell me anything of importance.” His mother sighed, “The boy acts just like his father really. I had thought I’d told him not to keep secrets from me, but he’d kept a rather large one this time. Not only that you’d died, but that you faked your death.” She smiled at him, “It was a good show I’d bet. My little detective wouldn’t have put on anything but the best show.”

“Mummy…” Sherlock complained with a sigh. Really he found his mother to be quite embarrassing with her doting on him.

“Oh, don’t worry about Dr. Watson. We had a nice little chat before you arrived.” She stated, “I can only say I hope this turns out better than what happened with Vincent and myself.”

“Mummy-“ Sherlock started but John cut him off

“Vincent?” John asked.

“Vincent Holmes, my husband.” She said with a wave of her hand, “It’s gotten so bad; he’s trying to keep secrets from me.”

“Dr. Holmes-“ John started but was interrupted.

“Oh, please, Dr.Watson, my son’s friends are free to call me Mummy.” At the look on John’s face she added, “Or Seraphina if not Mummy. Dr. Holmes is only for formal use, dear boy.”

“Seraphina, your son and I aren’t in…that sort of relationship, we’re just friends…” John stated, “Anyway, I’m not gay.”

“With the practiced ease in which you say that, I think you might protest a bit too much.” Seraphina Holmes smiled at him in the way of all-knowing that only mothers could pull off.

“Mummy, how long have you been here?” Sherlock asked.

“I dropped in around eleven in the morning. Your locks are quite easy to pick, son, you should change that or Mycroft will start putting cameras all over the place.” Seraphina stated.

“Taken note of, Mummy.” Sherlock said. His tone sounded like one scientist to another, though his words undercut that.

“Ah, Seraphina, I have a question.” John asked.

“What dear?” Seraphina replied.

“You said you were a doctor but you didn’t mention your specialty.” John stated.

Sherlock scoffed at this, “Quite the obvious answer John.” Sherlock had opened his mouth to continue but Seraphina stopped him.

“Sherly, take it from the one with more experience.” Seraphina whispered, “If you constantly speak to people like they’re idiots, they will start to avoid you. And when you form a connection with that person, their avoidance truly hurts.” With that advice given, she turned to John, “I work in Forensic Pathology. I also have doctorates in criminal justice and psychology.”

“So, are you where Sherlock gets it from?” John asked.

“Hm…You could say that. From a young age I took Sherlock under my wing, since Mycroft had taken far more interest in Vincent’s line of work. And Vincent in Mycroft.” Seraphina nodded, “In fact, I’m very proud that I was the first person he came to when he truly wanted in on a case.”

“Mummy…” Sherlock protested.

“He was so cute, though I think that hindered more than helped.” Seraphina continued ignoring her son, “I convinced the Detective Inspector on the case to listen to my little detective boy. They didn’t take his advice. Of course if they had I’d have had three less autopsies to do. When the man responsible for the murders fit Sherly’s description perfectly…well let’s just say, the DI in charge of the case ended up transferring.”

“What did you do?” John asked, quite interested.

“I just did what every mother does when their child is good at something. I bragged.” Seraphina stated, “The police started to listen to darling Sherlock more often then, though.”

“Probably because you would embarrassingly bring up that case every time they were about to shrug me off.” Sherlock muttered.

“Darling, my little detective,” Seraphina reached up slightly to ruffle Sherlock’s hair, “I’m your Mummy. I have the right to embarrass you. I received this right when I carried you around for nine months and gave birth to you.”

“Mummy…” Sherlock sighed

“What my darling little boy?” Seraphina asked. Sherlock just pouted and sat down in his armchair. John on the other hand offered the couch to Seraphina before sitting in his own chair. Seraphina took the seat on the couch.

“So, Seraphina, what was it like raising Sherlock?” John asked.

“I suppose like raising most other boys.” Seraphina stated, when John looked doubtful, she continued, “Or what raising most other boys would be like for normal women.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“Sherlock has many similar issues to me. We have similar issues when it comes to fitting into society and, unsurprisingly came up with similar tests to determine if people were worth our time to socialize with.” Seraphina said.

“Are you a sociopath as well?” John asked.

“Not quite. And neither is Sherly, it’s just one of the tests.” Seraphina stated, “We both have been diagnosed with Asperger’s Disorder. It is similar to Sociopathy in some ways, like the fact that empathy is a difficult concept for us. And, since we both have such logic bound minds, the idea of apologizing became…pointless because logically, two words won’t reverse actions. As such, it appears that we don’t feel remorse.” Seraphina smiled, “We do, but we just don’t express it when we do. Because of that, we can say the word ‘sociopath’ and know that the people who run away wouldn’t have lasted long anyway, as the key points of sociopathy are inability to feel remorse or empathize with others. Though Asperger’s is traditionally related more to Autism.”

John sat there for a moment, absorbing the information that had raced quickly from Seraphina. After a moment he heard a sigh from Sherlock.

“Darling,” Seraphina sighed in return, “there are only so many times one can sigh before looking like an adolescent…”

“But Mummy, why are you telling him everything?” Sherlock pouted. Seraphina stood up and walked over to her son. She slid her arms under his back and legs before lifting him up and sitting in his chair, placing the detective on her lap.

“Darling you are getting better. You’re still much to light, but it’s better than it used to be.” Seraphina noted, “I suppose we have one Dr. John Watson to thank for that.”

“So?” Sherlock said still pouting.

“So, Sherly, normal people usually assume that if one is…like us, we can perfectly take care of ourselves.” Seraphina stated, “If Dr. Watson has paid attention to your health it means he cares.”

“Has father…” Sherlock started.

“Not in years, Sherly. My doctor’s been worried. I keep making him promises but…I get distracted.”

John, who had long ago comprehended the information and was now listening to the conversation decided to speak up again.

“What’s wrong?” John asked.

Absently Sherlock replied, “Mummy has a habit of getting wrapped up in things and forgetting to eat. She ends up surviving on sweets one of the Detective Inspectors sends her.”

“Yes…DI Colette Adders. She was on the case that I fainted during. Colette added, ‘keep the ME alive’ to her list of duties.” Seraphina smiled, “She even came with me to London to make sure I didn’t spend my whole months’ vacation not eating…”

John laughed, “I think I’ve discovered who Sherlock learned his habits from.”

Seraphina stated, “Well, Vincent was often much too busy with Mycroft to worry about Sherlock and by the time my dear Sherly was born, Mycroft had a very similar opinion to his father about me. In the end that lead to Sherlock and I…I suppose one could describe it as clinging to each other for…comfort until he went off to Uni, then most of the issues started…But let’s not go there.”

Sherlock stood then and held out a hand for his mother, “I should escort you back to your hotel, Mummy. I’d also like to meet this Colette Adders. You met her…”

“Three months after you went to Uni. The fainting made a very good first impression…” Seraphina smiled.

“You didn’t even last three months?” Sherlock said shocked, “I thought you’d at least last that long.”

“Vincent had found a new…he had gotten a new secretary and she scheduled him so he was out more often than he was in so there wasn’t any measure of time after the help went home.” Seraphina stated in defense, “And it hasn’t happened since Colette came into the picture.”

“What do you mean, she didn’t last three months?” John asked, standing to accompany the Holmes’s to…however far Sherlock was going honestly…

“I made Mummy promise when I left for Uni that she’d take care of herself. We’d set up a routine until then that if she hadn’t brought me food by midnight, I’d go make sure she was okay. I ended up getting her more often than not.” Sherlock stated.

“And I usually sent us both to bed after we ate…” Seraphina stated, “Honestly I’m surprised Sherlock is as good a man as he is. I loved him like no other, but I wasn’t a very good mother…”

“You are a great mother, Mummy. Other women wouldn’t have been nearly so supportive to my desire to make up my own career.” Sherlock stated, “Others had mothers who forced them to go into ‘realistic careers’.”

“Seraphina, from what I’ve heard, there isn’t a woman in the world who would have been a better mother for Sherlock.” John stated, placing a hand on her shoulder. Seraphina smiled at John.

“And we can only be glad Vincent was there for Mycroft.” Seraphina stated.

“The only reason I’m glad about that is that meant I received all your attentions.” Sherlock stated as he opened the cab door for Seraphina, “Bring Colette with you next time and she and John can force us to dinner together.” He stated, leaning on the cab. Seraphina laughed and Sherlock shut the door of the cab.

“Of course. Sounds like a great time.” Seraphina stated before the cab pulled away. John and Sherlock watched the cab leave their sight, anticipating the next time they’d see Dr. Seraphina Holmes.


	2. Meeting Mummy's Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seraphina Holmes returns to Baker Street with company...

When Seraphina Holmes returned to Baker Street, she was accompanied by a woman whose head reached the Holmes woman’s chin. Her hair was a dark hue and was just as littered with grey as Seraphina’s. Due to her company, Seraphina decided to knock on the door to 221B rather than invite herself in. Truly her friend did not approve of the ease in which Seraphina would pick locks. It seemed to put the old DI off. Of course, Seraphina thought Colette should be used to it by now.

The door was answered by John, who greeted them with a smile and an offer of tea once they were inside the flat. The women accepted the offer. Colette said she took her tea with a dash of milk, Seraphina informed John that she liked just a bit of sugar.

“Fair warning John, Mummy’s ‘just a bit of sugar’ is at least three sugars.” Sherlock’s voice came from the kitchen. Seraphina smiled and wandered her way over to her son. Sherlock was hunched over his microscope fiddling with the dials. Seraphina chose to lean against the fridge and attempt to observe her son. The boy had always been better at observing behavior…

When John asked for the milk from the fridge, Seraphina fetched it. Due to her lack of reaction to the fingers, toes, and even a whole arm (fingers to shoulder) that was taking residence in the fridge, John figured that Sherlock’s placement of the limbs was not a new thing.

“Sherly, darling, There’s rot on some of your toes, what are you doing with them?” Seraphina asked casually. Like she was talking about the weather. Colette, for her part, came rushing into the kitchen when she heard this.

“Your son’s toes are rotting?” She asked worriedly.

“No, Colette. Sherlock’s toe specimens are.” Seraphina waved off the worry. Colette ended up rolling her eyes.

“The toes are testing the precise rate of decay for flesh that has been frozen solid then slowly thawed.” Sherlock stated as he looked up finally from his microscope, “How rotted were the toes?” he asked. John looked at Colette with minor worry, hoping the woman had been at least warned about the oddness of the Holmes family. Colette wasn’t fazed, but she seemed somewhat put off.

“I would say…that much rotting in a corpse found at a crime scene would indicate death happening a week prior to the discovery of the body.” Seraphina stated, “Also, be polite.”

The simple command was enough to cause Sherlock to turn to Colette with only the barest hints of an exasperated sigh. It seemed, even in the Holmes family, one does what Mummy says.

“Detective Inspector Colette Adders I presume?” He asked rhetorically, “I am Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Sherlock took Colette’s hand in his and brushed his lips against her knuckles. For some reason, the sight caused John to twitch ever so slightly. Unnoticeable to most people, but then again…half of the people in this room were of Holmes origins. The twitch was picked up on very quickly.

“Are you…shocked, John?” Sherlock asked his friend.

“I’ve just never seen you be any more than civil with a person.” John stated, not entirely sure that was the real reason for his twitch.

“Most the world deserves no more than civility, but Mummy has decided that DI Adders deserves her friendship. Mummy usually ends up treating her friends as siblings.” Sherlock stated, “Speaking of siblings, Mummy, how is Aunt Annabelle?”

“Dropped off the face of the earth.” Seraphina stated in an unconcerned tone, “Last I heard of was a post on one of those social networking sights that Colette here showed me. My sister has apparently had a child. A girl by the name of Karin. If my mother was alive, I’d be glad to point out how our lives have differed.”

“How is that?” John asked, but when he saw Colette shaking her head, he thought it was probably not the smartest thing to ask.

“My dearest sister, Annabelle Matilda Skye, was the daughter my mother decided would be successful. Mother did not agree with my habit of avoiding social gatherings, while she adored Annabelle the social butterfly. However, it’s a good thing dearest Annabelle enjoys the company of people, especially that of men, as her career choice means she meets them often. However, until the day she died, Mother would forever claim Annabelle to be the better daughter, despite my triple doctorate and marriage to a man of high class. No, my dearest mother would always point out how the only reason I was still married was because my husband and I didn’t want to suffer through a public divorce. She’d say that I’d be a Holmes forever, only because it was too much trouble for Vincent to return to the name of Andrews.” Seraphina’s rant was obvious evidence of the bad blood between her and her sister. As such John decided to correct his mistake and latch on to an interesting tidbit she’d released.

“Vincent changed his name as well?” He asked.

“Yes.” Seraphina nodded, “Neither of us wanted to leave behind our old identity if the other got to keep theirs, so we changed to a name neither of us had.”

“Why pick Holmes?” John asked.

“Vincent came up with it. Something about it meaning we were each other’s true home…” Seraphina shrugged, “In any case, I kept my last name as my middle name, and became Seraphina Skye Holmes when Vincent and I married. Vincent did something similar; his full name is Vincent Andrew Holmes.”

“While on the subject of names,” Colette commented, “Was it you or your husband that named your boys?”

“Vincent couldn’t be bothered to show up while I was in labor, so I named them both. Of course, Vincent didn’t approve of such…notable names.” Seraphina commented, “I however liked them. Mycroft Alexander Holmes and Sherlock Seraphim Holmes are names just as unique as the boys who bare them.”

“Seraphim?” John looked at Sherlock with a smile.

“Yes, Mummy says she was quite peeved with my father for taking her first son, so she decided to mark me as her child for as long as I live.” Sherlock stated, “I wonder, however, if Moriarty knew of my middle name. He once proclaimed he would ‘burn the heart out of me’ and said I was ‘on the side of angels’, and as Seraphim is the plural form of Seraph, which are creatures described to be akin to fiery angels.”

“It’s very likely that he could have found it. It is, after all, on all of your records.” Seraphina stated, “I’ve never known it to be a secret…” The tone in her voice was inquiring.

“It’s not, Mummy.” Sherlock stated, “Most people aren’t aware of it though, of their own doing…”

John shook his head, “I’m sure they believe the knowledge of your middle name to be unimportant. Sherlock Holmes is identifiable enough.”

Sherlock was about to respond when there was a loud grumble. Actually, two loud grumbles that were surprisingly synchronized. Each Holmes was on the receiving end of a stern look from their companion. Colette spoke up first.

“I believe that it’s close enough to dinner.” She said, “Dr. Watson, do you know any place we could go?”

John was about to respond when Sherlock jumped in, “Italian sounds good, we could go to Angelo’s.”

John nodded, “It’s not too far either.” He smiled at Colette and Seraphina, “Is that okay with you two, DI Adders, Seraphina?”

“Colette, please, both of you.” She added then looked at Sherlock, “Don’t you dare call me aunt. Your brother tried that, and if he does again I’ll have him in cuffs.”

“If you do, please send me a photo.” Sherlock commented. He walked out of the kitchen, the group following him. John went to the stairs. It took a few minutes but soon the boys were ready to leave. Seraphina started evening the lapels of Sherlock’s coat.

“Mummy, I can dress myself…” Sherlock protested, but did nothing to stop Seraphina. John smiled at his friend’s predicament.

“Of course you can, darling.” Seraphina said. She soon finished fixing Sherlock up them moved to John, fixing up his hair, which was just long enough to need occasional fixing. Colette smiled at the sight. John rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, letting Mummy Holmes fuss over him. Sherlock, on the other hand, played with his coat. When Seraphina turned away from John and saw her son messing up her work, she sighed and shook her head.

“We should leave before dear Seraphina decides to redress the both of you.” Colette laughed.

“She would do it.” Sherlock said when he saw John’s look of disbelief.

Seraphina shook her head as her son took her hand and lead her down the steps of 221B. Sherlock managed to quickly flag a cab down. He opened the door for his mother, letting her, Colette and John in before climbing in himself. He gave the driver the address for Angelo’s then turned to watch the other occupants of the cab.

The ride was quiet. The Holmes’s seemed to be having a conversation without speaking and Colette and John didn’t feel like they should interrupt. They soon arrived at Angelo’s however, and were quickly shown to a table. Not five minutes after sitting, Angelo came out to greet them.

“Sherlock, how good to see you again.” He said cheerfully, “And,” Angelo saw Seraphina and Colette sitting across from each other, Seraphina next to Sherlock, Colette next to John, “You brought family!” Angelo smiled at Seraphina and held out his hand, “You must be Sherlock’s sister.” He said, the flattery in his voice evident.

“His mother, actually.” Seraphina stated, “And still married to his father.” She continued in a flat voice.

“Well, you should be proud of your boy.” Angelo stated, his cheery mood not at all disturbed by Seraphina’s rebut, “Cleared my name, he did.”

“Yes,” Seraphina beamed at Sherlock, “My boy is something special.” She reached up and pet Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock looked down at the menu in front of him, but everyone at the table could see his smile.

“Order anything, it’s on the house.” Angelo informed them before heading back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, a waiter came to their table. They ordered their drinks, tea for Colette and John, coffee for Sherlock and Seraphina. After the few minutes it took for that to get back to them, they ordered food. Seraphina said her order while passing out sugars between herself and her son. With the way she was doing it, you’d think they were cards. Sherlock took two from his pile and added them to his coffee.

By the time the food was here, the Holmes’s had gone through three cups of coffee each. John and Colette shared an exasperated look. However, despite the amount of coffee they drank (seven cups for Sherlock, nine for Seraphina) they managed to eat enough to please John and Colette. However, the meal was interrupted by a text to Sherlock. Sherlock looked through the message.

“Lestrade has a triple homicide on his hands.” Sherlock stated, “He’s requesting my assistance”

Had he not been watching the two, John would have been shocked when Sherlock looked over to his mother after he said this with all the nuances of a child asking permission to go to a friend’s house. John almost laughed despite the fact he’d been almost expecting it by that point.

Seraphina smiled at her boy. Sherlock jumped up in excitement, but Seraphina added, “I would like to see how my boy does his work.”

John noticed how Sherlock’s expression flickered to nervousness. John thought he was thinking of Anderson and Donovan, however knowing Seraphina, the first word spoken against Sherlock would be returned thirty fold. John was looking forward to it.


	3. Mummy Meets Scotland Yard

When the group of four arrived at the crime scene, an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of London, Donovan was waiting at the tape to let them in. As she caught sight of the group, she decided to comment.

“Did you put an add out on the internet looking for followers, freak?” Donovan shot at Sherlock. John didn’t even have to look at Seraphina to know her reaction.

“You go on to your crime scene, Sherlock.” Seraphina’s voice was even, but had a tone John had heard in higher ups during his time in Afghanistan, “I wish to have a word with this young lady.”

Sherlock nodded silently and walked under the tape, John following. Colette commented that she would stay behind to make sure that another crime would be committed. John didn’t doubt it possible. Sherlock just nodded and went down to where Lestrade was standing.

“Who’s that talking to Donovan?” Lestrade asked

“That’s Dr. Seraphina Holmes.” John stated, “Sherlock’s mother.”

Lestrade looked surprised, “Sherlock’s mum? Why is she talking to Donovan?” Lestrade looked back over to the women, “Never mind, that is not talking…” John and Sherlock turned to see Seraphina being held back by Colette while Donovan was on the ground. Even from this distance John could see Donovan shaking. It wasn’t much longer before Seraphina decided she was done with the Sargent and started walking towards them.

“That woman is scary.” Lestrade stated before she’d reached them.

John just smiled, “I find her rather pleasant.” He said.

“Thank you John.” Seraphina said from beside John, “It’s good to know I don’t scare my son’s friends.”

“Dr. Holmes,” Lestrade said, up at attention, “DI Greg Lestrade.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Seraphina said, being perfectly pleasant, “It’s good to know that some Detective Inspectors know to listen to my boy.”

Lestrade looked a bit confused but continued none the less, “Yes, well, I would warn you about going in there, it’s a horror house really. Wouldn’t go in again myself if I didn’t have to.”

“DI Lestrade, I assure you, Seraphina and I have seen it all before.” Colette answered.

“And you are?” Lestrade asked

Colette smiled, “Colette Adders, I’m a DI myself. And Seraphina is our Forensic Pathologist back home.”

Lestrade nodded. He lead them into the warehouse to see the case. They were quickly met, however, by Anderson.

“Great, the freaks got a whole fan club here to contaminate the crime scene…” Anderson muttered.

“Everyone here has been to a crime scene before.” Lestrade told Anderson.

“I’ve never seen the women before.” Anderson scoffed.

Seraphina walked up to Anderson, her expression like the one they’d seen when she was standing over Donovan, and said “That is DI Colette Adders,” She pointed to Colette, “and I am Dr. Seraphina Holmes, a forensic pathologist.”

“Holmes?” Anderson grimaced, “Related to the freak then are you?”

Lestrade shook his head, preparing for what was bound to happen next.

“You call my son a freak?” Seraphina said calmly, “You are aware that as a forensic pathologist I know exactly what one does to find the cause of death of a murder victim, or how one decides it to be a murder.” Her calm voice was obviously disturbing Anderson. “Do be careful what you say, and who you say it in front of, young man. And as for my son _contaminating a crime scene_ , He’s understood how you treat a crime scene since he was nine; you’ve never had anything to worry about.”

“How would he-“ Anderson was about to mouth off to Seraphina again but Colette cut him off.

“I wouldn’t.” She said forcefully. The obvious command in her voice shut Anderson up and they managed to head into the crime scene. As soon as they saw it, Sherlock jumped in glee. He ran around with precision, deducing everything he could. Seraphina looked on with a content smile with Colette next to her. John was watching Sherlock intently while he all but danced around the three bodies on the floor.

“You should be looking for a surgeon with a long list of patients waiting for transplant.” Sherlock stated, “They’re all organ donors. You’ll notice that each has had an organ removed. You’ll find the murderer used those organs in transplants for his patients.” Sherlock turned towards the group that’d followed him here. He gestured with his hand towards the bodies. Seraphina was the first to go forward; as both John and Colette were sure she’d have the best chance at seeing what Sherlock saw. Seraphina walked around the corpses herself.  She nodded as she examined each one.

“Cause of death was probably blood loss from the impromptu surgery, as the amount of blood tells us that they were alive during it.” She stated, “That’s very good Sherly.” She turned to her son and sent a beaming smile at him. John turned to watch Sherlock and saw a smile twitch his lips.

“What is this, show and tell?” Donovan’s voice rang in the room.

Seraphina spun on her heels and stared at Donovan, “If you like, I can show you how the procedure was done.” She stated in the flat, calm voice that made it clear that one should run away.

Donovan blanched and turned away. She walked over to Anderson who was glaring at the group from the corner of the warehouse. Absently John noted that they started muttering together, but he turned his attention to Sherlock and Seraphina, who were winding their way away from the corpses. Once they reached Lestrade, John, and Colette, Sherlock turned to the active DI.

“I’m sure you can handle it from here. As long as you don’t let Anderson help, there shouldn’t be too many issues.” Sherlock said flippantly. He then pulled out his phone to glance at it. Seraphina glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we took our leave, Detective Inspector.” Seraphina said with a polite smile.

“Not at all.” Lestrade said as he started to lead them out of the warehouse.

It wasn’t too long before they were at the police tape again. Sherlock  held the tape up for his companions before ducking under himself. When they reached the street, empty as it was, Seraphina decided to pull out her phone.

“Don’t worry about it Mummy.” Sherlock stated, “We aren’t too far from Baker Street, and I’m sure John won’t mind you staying the night, should you choose.” With that he started walking in the direction of Baker Street, the group following his lead.

“That’s lovely Sherlock.” Seraphina smiled, she looked at John for a moment, and noticed he seemed pleased at the thought. Then she turned to Colette, “Would you mind terribly, Colette?” she asked, mostly to be polite, she was fairly certain her friend wouldn’t care.

“Not at all.” Colette said, “As long as we can find somewhere to sleep.”

Sherlock smiled, “Should you not mind sharing a bed, you can have mine.” He said, “I wouldn’t mind taking the couch.”

Seraphina nodded, “As long as you actually sleep.” She stated

John decided to pop in then, “He sleeps on the couch more than his bed as it is.”

Colette laughed, “Like mother like son it seems.” She smiled at her friend when Seraphina huffed at her comment.

It wasn’t long until they reached Baker Street. When they entered the flat, Colette ushered Seraphina to the room Sherlock pointed them towards. Seraphina threw a comment that Sherlock should be asleep soon too over her shoulder as she was nearly dragged into the room. John laughed and headed towards his bed up the stairs. Sherlock laid on the couch thinking he’d pretend he’d slept when morning came. However he felt himself truly drifting off a while after he’d laid down.


	4. Mycroft and Mummy

Sherlock hadn’t honestly realized he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knock on the door. He cracked open his eyes to glare at the door. He easily recognized the sound of his brother’s umbrella on the wood. As such, Sherlock ignored it, hoping Mycroft would just leave. It didn’t take long for Mycroft to start a constant tapping on the door. The tapping seemed to be getting louder at a steady rate, but Sherlock refused to let his brother in. Mycroft’s tapping eventually woke the other occupants of the flat.

When Seraphina emerged from Sherlock’s room, she glanced at the door, then her son. She smiled at the man’s pouting. He obviously didn’t want to deal with his brother. Seraphina smirked and walked up to the door. She knocked on the wood for every tap of Mycroft’s. The tapping quickly stopped and Seraphina waited a moment before opening the door.

“Mycroft Alexander Holmes, I thought I taught you to respect your brother’s privacy.” Seraphina chastised the government worker, “That includes not picking his locks”

“Pleasure to see you as well Mummy.” Mycroft sighed in resignation, putting his lock pick back into the pocket of his suit.

Seraphina smiled, “Yes, dear, seeing you is just as pleasant as always.” Her tone and Sherlock’s scoff in the background might have undercut her words just a bit.

“I’m sorry to wake you Mummy.” Mycroft had donned his polite smile and invited himself into the flat.

“Only as sorry as you’ve ever been Mycie.” Seraphina stated, her use of the nickname brought a grimace to Mycroft’s face.

“Mummy, I believe we agreed that such monikers aren’t to be used with company…” Mycroft muttered.

Seraphina smiled, “I will tell you what I told your brother.” She stated, “I have the right to embarrass you. In spite of whatever Vincent has told you.”

“Father never mentions your ‘right to embarrass me’.” Mycroft said, trying to be diplomatic.

“Hm…” Seraphina’s tone in that hum implied exactly what she thought of that claim, “I do believe you came here with a purpose, or you wouldn’t have insisted on waking everyone up.”

“Yes, I have a case for my dear brother.” Mycroft stated.

“No.” Sherlock huffed, flipping himself on the couch so he couldn’t see Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed, “It’s a matter of national security.” He said.

“Doesn’t that make it more Vincent’s department?” Seraphina hummed in a distracted tone, “Would anyone like tea?”

Most of the people in the group nodded, happily accepting the offer. Colette, however, followed Seraphina into the kitchen.

“Sherlock, it is imperative you take this case.” Mycroft tried to push the matter but Sherlock just ignored him. Mycroft repeatedly tried to reason with him until Seraphina came out carrying a tray with cups of tea. She tapped Sherlock on the shoulder, and he sat up on the couch, still not looking at Mycroft. Seraphina sat down next to him and handed him a cup of tea.

“Now, Mycie, what is this case you want your brother to take?” Seraphina asked.

“Mummy, I’m sure we don’t need you to mediate.” Mycroft insisted

Seraphina raised an eyebrow, “Doesn’t appear so.” She stated, “Now Mycie, if this is a case the secret service could take, then there is no reason to force your brother into it.”

“It is not one I’d trust them with.” Mycroft stated.

Seraphina looked mildly interested, “If you don’t trust the secret service then why employ them, Mycie?”

“Mummy, do you truly believe you are a proper mediator?” Mycroft deflected the conversation, “You clearly prefer Sherlock.”

“If I prefer Sherlock it is merely because there is more connection between us.” Seraphina stated, “I clearly remember someone regarding time with his Mummy as ‘wasted time’ since the age of three.”

“I didn’t have time to spend dissecting animals.” Mycroft scoffed, “Father insisted that such skills would not be beneficial to me.”

“Vincent insists on many things.” Seraphina stated flatly, “He insisted he hadn’t the time to do anything but teach you and work, but I have reasons to believe that isn’t completely true.”

Mycroft looked affronted; he didn’t often hear anything but praise for Vincent Holmes, then again, Holmes’s didn’t often talk about the split in the household or those on the other side of it.

“Now, Mycroft,” Seraphina sighed, “Is there any reason why Sherlock should be taking this case for you?”

Mycroft was fuming silently. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, as his political smile was still firmly in place, however, those that paid attention could see a twitching in his hands. Sherlock, for his part, was smugly sipping his tea.

“Mummy, you must understand, it is a matter of national security.” Mycroft said in a forcibly level tone.

“Mycroft, ‘national security’ is an issue for those employed by the government at a national level.” Seraphina reasoned, “Not that of those whom are self-employed. In any case, you cannot force a case on your brother. I don’t know what Vincent taught you, but-“

“Father taught me what he thought I should know.” Mycroft said.

“Very cryptic,” Sherlock stated, “I’m assuming that included how to kidnap and manipulate people.” The barb was shot off  in a muttered tone, but everyone in the flat heard it clearly.

“Yes, just like Mummy here taught you the best ways to dismember a body.” Mycroft growled, “Father did what he believed to be best for my future.”

Sherlock was about to continue the shouting match but Colette jumped in and pulled Mycroft into the kitchen, Seraphina smirked but soon heard her friend call out,

“I’ll be talking to Sherlock next.”

John was, quite honestly, amused. He just had that many more barbs to throw at Mycroft the next time he was kidnapped. Mycroft came out looking quite disgruntled. He barely tossed a look at the other Holmes’s before leaving the flat. Colette returned to the room and looked at both Sherlock and Seraphina with a heavy sigh.

“That was, possibly, the worst way to deal with the issue, Seraphina Skye Holmes.” Colette’s voice was flat, “Mycroft had a valid point, you’d never make Sherlock do anything he didn’t want to unless it would cause him harm not to.”

“I’m not a child in need of scolding Colette.” Seraphina huffed.

Colette looked skeptical, “No, you are not a child, in fact you are 62 years old, but whether or not you need to be scolded is debatable.” The aging DI sighed and sat in Sherlock’s chair, “You’ve reacted like this towards Mycroft since I’ve known you, at least. I’m fairly certain you might have acted like this since he definitively chose Vincent over you.”

“Colette, while it’s clear there are rifts in my family, has everyone not turned out fine?” Seraphina reasoned.

“Your eldest is like a miniature Vincent and your youngest mimics you so thoroughly, it’s somewhat frightening.” Colette stated, “Of course, you don’t think of it like that. You find Sherlock’s wish to be like you flattering.”

“Well, Colette, as I was the primary nurturing aspect in Sherlock’s life and he genetically favored me, it doesn’t come as a surprise that he’d act as I do.” Seraphina tried to reason, “And, while I might be persuaded to admit his immediate refusal to take his brother’s case was possibly premature, Mycroft should not try to guilt his brother into doing something he is not interested in.”

Colette dead panned, “No one should try to guilt either of you into anything. They’d surely fail. Are you positive the sociopath thing is just a ruse?”

“My mother had me tested.” Both Sherlock and Seraphina chorused.

“I’m surprised Seraphina would go through the trouble.” Colette jibbed.

John sighed. He could clearly feel the tension that was building between the older women, “I’m sure there is a…more pleasant way to talk about this than starting a row.”

Colette just sunk deeper into the chair and stared at the ceiling. John honestly understood the issues of getting Sherlock to understand the social norms, and he could only imagine Seraphina was worse, due to more years not abiding by them. However, from the concerned look John saw Seraphina throw at Colette, he wasn’t sure there was no hope for her. She was very clever from what he’d seen. Both in person and in Sherlock’s regard for her.

Speaking of Sherlock, John heard his deep sigh and turned to look at his mother and her friend. He then coughed, getting everyone’s attention.

“It is possible I should have let Mycroft explain the case, but Mycroft has a habit of giving me cases that are too boring for him to take care of, but not something he’d trust his moderately secret service with.” Sherlock explained. John gapped at him. That was the closest Sherlock had ever come to admitting he was wrong, “Close your mouth John.” Sherlock’s quip came quickly and John shut his mouth with a click when his teeth met.

Seraphina sighed, “Let your brother explain the case Sherlock.” Sherlock nodded and not three minutes later there was a ding indicating a text on Sherlock’s phone. When Sherlock grimaced at the phone Seraphina said loudly, “And Mycroft should respect your privacy. That means _no cameras._ ”

Sherlock huffed a laugh and checked the text. As soon as he was about to close the phone, another text came through.

“He wants to meet in the café down stairs to prevent another scene.” Sherlock stated, “He also said that ‘the cameras are for safety reasons’.”

Seraphina sighed, “I will have to talk to him about that…”

“He won’t listen.” Sherlock stated. Seraphina sighed again to acknowledge that as true. The group stood up and migrated down to the café. The two relatively normal (because no one who is willing to endure a Holmes is truly normal) members of this group were quite apprehensive. One can only expect people being present to stop so much with this family.


	5. Mycroft's Case

When they’d made it into the café, the group saw Mycroft sitting at the table with a file folder and a slice of cake. Sherlock and Seraphina sat down, quickly followed by John and Colette. A waitress came over and took their ‘order’ (which consisted of a small slice of chocolate cake for Seraphina, an omelet for Sherlock (because his mummy insisted) and a full English for Colette and John) before leaving. Mycroft slid the folder towards Sherlock then.   
Sherlock picked it up and flipped through it. He frowned at the first page.  
“Please tell me this is not the case.” Sherlock sighed, “It is clearly the man’s mistress’s fault. Not some assassin. Nothing interesting or threatening about this.”  
“Except that the Mr. Cobbler’s mistress is a professional killer attached to an Irishman we know all too well.” Mycroft stated, “And their first meeting was under suspicious circumstances.”  
“So you believe he’s involved?” Sherlock was interested now.  
“Of course.” Mycroft nodded.  
Seraphina looked between her sons, “Lovely boys, do elaborate for your dear mummy.”  
“The reason I had to…disappear for a time was because of Jim Moriarty, a consulting criminal.” Sherlock said, “According to Mycroft, Moriarty may have returned.”  
Mycroft looked at Seraphina then, “I’d recommend you returning home Mummy.” His voice didn’t really have an inflection…it was more or less a deadpan, “At your age-“  
“I am 62, not four, and not ninety.” Seraphina sighed, “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”  
“Mummy, you must see, you aren’t as capable-“ Mycroft tried again.  
“I came to London for vacation and I’m not going to leave just because of some Jim boy.” Seraphina was resolute, meaning no one could persuade her otherwise until it was proven, beyond a doubt, that this was not a good decision. Sherlock sighed, accepting that persuading her would be a futile effort. From a look at Mycroft, though, he knew that his brother would try again. But later. Now he was paying much more attention to Sherlock.  
“You want me to find the killer so you can question her about Moriarty?” Sherlock stated, “Fine.”  
Mycroft just nodded and left the café as the food was arriving.

Later that day, Sherlock was going through the evidence Mycroft had given. His mummy was deciphering the coroner’s report with John sitting next to her. Sherlock ended up fighting a smile whenever he saw the two of them. Mummy did so love to gift people with her knowledge, and there was no one more deserving of that knowledge than John, in Sherlock’s not so humble opinion.  
“She has military level training. I’d even say it’s most likely American military.” Seraphina stated.  
“Yes,” Sherlock agreed, “She’s also very young. I’d say she grew up in a military family, father probably…marine. He taught her since she was young; she’s grown up with it.” Sherlock flipped through the pictures and managed to find one of Mr. Cobbler with the mistress. There wasn’t a face, her head was turned, but it was a clear shot of the rest of her. After a moment of examining the photograph, Sherlock turned to the others, “I know where she’ll be staying.”  
With that, Sherlock spun around and out the door. John got up and offered a hand to Seraphina, who smiled and took it. Colette was already racing after Sherlock by that point. John and Seraphina managed to get down the steps easily enough, and John saw Sherlock running west. John hesitated for a moment, but when he saw Seraphina running after her son, he soon pursued as well.  
John couldn’t honestly tell you which way they were going. But that was normal as Sherlock was leading with a specialized route created via the map of London he has memorized. Which of course meant jumping across buildings and the like. John assumed this kind of transportation must have been one of those things Sherlock learned from Seraphina, because the woman was keeping up flawlessly, though not leading with her son.  
By the time they reached their destination, even Sherlock was slightly out of breath. However, walking out of the hotel (the Four Seasons. The Four bloody Seasons) was the woman from the photograph. Cropped black hair, expensive clothes and two large suitcases rolling behind her. When she saw them she dropped the cases and bolted.   
Later, John was fairly certain the only reason they actually caught her was because one of her heals snapped off.  
So, with a killer for hire handcuffed in the sitting room of the flat, Sherlock was negotiating with his brother about whether he should be allowed to interrogate said killer. The four others in the sitting room (it really was rather cramped) were watching with interest.  
“I’ll tell the detective.” The killer said, “He’s the one who I have permission to talk to.”  
The group turned to stare at her. Then Mycroft, looking as if he’d just been insulted, nodded.  
“Fine then.” He said, “But at my facility.” And with that he left with a casual “I’ll send a van” tossed over his shoulder.  
“Why me?” Sherlock asked the killer.  
“I think the ice man wants us to hold off on our little conversation.” She said with a smile. Sherlock glowered at her and went to wait by the window for the van.

The van came a few hours later. In those hours the only sound was of tea being made and consumed. Of course, only Colette and John had tea. Seraphina was watching Sherlock and Sherlock was watching for the van. They didn’t offer the killer, who wouldn’t even give them an alias to address her by. When they asked her too she just smiled and said, “Why don’ cha call me ‘Yankee’ or sumtin?” Slurring her words to purposefully annoy the Holmes’ present, earning her many a withering look.  
Everyone was more than happy to pile into the van. They were quickly at Mycroft’s ‘facility’. Said Holmes was waiting for them out front. He directed some men to take the killer, who had apparently been known to Mr. Cobbler as Alicia Taylor (not that Mycroft included that information in the case), to an interrogation room. Mycroft led everyone else to an adjoining room separated from Miss Taylor’s room by a pain of glass. The room they were in was darker than Taylor’s room, so Taylor couldn’t see inside.  
“Now, Sherlock-“ Mycroft started but was cut off.  
“You just want me to get information out of her.” Sherlock sighed, “Nothing illegal. I know this Mycroft.”  
“Yes.” Mycroft was short with it. He gestured for Sherlock to go speak with Miss Taylor.  
“Know my name, now.” Taylor said as he entered.  
“An alias.” Sherlock corrected, “You wouldn’t use your real name for a job.”  
“Naw, I wouldn’.” Taylor slurred.  
Sherlock sighed, “And you can stop with that ridiculous accent.”  
“Who sai’ dis idnt my real accen’?” Taylor smirked as she said it, “You figure’ ou’ Imma Amurrican, bu’ who sai’ I don’ talk like dis when I aint on a job?”  
“It’s much too heavy to belong to a person who’s been far from home for as long as you have. Or someone who uses different dialects often.” Sherlock reasoned, though there was also the fact that it wasn’t quite right for an American, but he wouldn’t say that.  
“Why don’ cha ge’ yer mama in here?” Taylor said, not dropping the accent, “My boss, or his boss any ways, he has a message for ‘er. Or ‘bout ‘er really. Sumtin ‘bout…oh wha’ was it? Oh yea! ‘e’d like ta mee’ ‘er. ‘Ave a lil’ chat. Ge’ ta know ‘er a bi’. ‘e sai’ ‘e wan’ed me ta tell ‘im bi’ ‘bout ‘er when ya lemme go.”  
“When we let you go?” Sherlock said.  
“Yea, cuz dat’s the deal, see.” She smiled, “I tell ya ‘bout wha’s goin’ on wit dis job. Why Cobbla was impor’an’, and ya lemme go, cuz otherwise…otherwise I give dis lovely lil’ signal, an’ dat signal, it’ll tell my boss where I am, an’ he’ll bring the cavalry.”  
Sherlock frowned, “Why was Cobbler important?”  
“So ya’ll be lettin’ me go afta dis?” Taylor persisted.  
“Of course, if you also drop that fake accent.” Sherlock stated, “It’s changed at least three times since I’ve been in your presence.”  
“Naw. No can do detective man.” Taylor smiled again, “Par’ o’ my job wit dis. Gotta drive ya up the wall, ya know. Boss sai’ dis was da best way ta do dat. Bu’-“ Taylor looked through the window, “Cobbla wa’ just dar ta get cha ta look dis way, ya know. Boss sai’ ‘is boss sai’ it wa’ colla’eral damage.” Then she looked towards the glass, “An’ ta ge’ sumone ta give yer mama da message. Cuz, ‘e’ll be visitin’ soon.”  
Sherlock stiffened slightly but left the room. He returned to the rest of the group with a scowl. He walked past an angered Mycroft towards Seraphina.  
“Take your things from your hotel, move them into Baker Street.” Sherlock said, “You’re staying with us until we have Moriarty.” With that Sherlock turned to Mycroft, “And you should remember she didn’t comply with the ultimatum I gave her, Alicia Taylor is yours. Enjoy her accent.” Sherlock sneered, “It’s charming.”


	6. Minor Issues

When Sherlock had fetched his mummy’s bags from her hotel, along with Colette’s because he knew the DI wouldn’t have been able to afford the room on her own (and he was not risking Moriarty using the DI against his mummy), they were quickly rushed into Baker Street. Seraphina watched her son with worry. He was acting very frantic, like he was honestly afraid of what this Jim Moriarty was capable of. Seraphina hadn’t seen her little boy like this since…well since Vincent had convinced her to stop homeschooling Sherly.  
“Sherly, are you-“ Seraphina was cut off by her son’s violent shake of the head.  
“No, Mummy.” Sherlock said quickly, “I’m not okay. This is not okay.” Sherlock was pacing franticly around the flat, “His web was supposed to be destroyed to the point that even if he was still alive, which is obviously the case, he wouldn’t have been a threat to me. That is clearly not true…”  
John looked worried. The ex-army doctor walked over to Sherlock and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Sherlock, calm down. If you keep this up you won’t be able to think clearly.”  
Sherlock nodded shakily, drawing in a ragged breath, “Mummy,” He started, “I don’t want you going anywhere alone. I want John or myself with you at all times. Same for Colette. Moriarty is not above using sentimental attachments to get people to come to him.”  
“Okay.” Seraphina said quietly. “Okay Sherly.” She slowly walked over to him and wrapped her arms around the man. Sherlock let his head drop the short distance to her shoulder and sighed. They stayed like that for a moment before Sherlock’s phone went off. Sherlock moved away from his mummy and looked at the text on the screen. Sherlock then glared at his phone and quickly placed it back in his pocket. Seraphina got a glimpse of his face and sighed. She walked slowly to the kitchen and John stared after her.  
Colette noticed his staring and chuckled, “She’s probably looking for some kind of chocolate.” She commented, “That’s Seraphina’s solution to hardship.”  
“Chocolate-“ Seraphina started while she was returning to the sitting room, carrying a few boxes of chocolate biscuits, but she was interrupted by Colette.  
“Yeah, yeah, endorphins or something like that.” She said, waving her hand. Seraphina smiled and passed a box to Sherlock, who looked at his mummy before sighing. He took the box though, even pulling a biscuit out and biting into it dramatically. Seraphina smiled and turned to John, “Your out of milk.”  
John looked confused, “I swore we had some this morning…” he muttered before heading into the kitchen to check for himself. He came back out shaking his head in frustration. Sherlock looked at him.  
“If you’re going out to get more, take someone with you.” Sherlock stated.  
John looked at Sherlock curiously, “Why?”  
Sherlock sighed, “Moriarty could-“ He stopped though when John nodded and gestured towards the door for Seraphina. Seraphina smiled and turned towards Colette.  
“Make sure Sherly eats plenty of those. Not only has he not eaten since I’ve seen him but-“  
“It’s good for moods.” Colette said with a shake of her head, “Go on, I’m sure your fellow doctor has many questions for you.”  
The pair left the flat then, Seraphina being sure to grab her coat. It was still chilly in London, and in any case, she didn’t go places without it. John obviously noticed and asked about it when they were out on the street.  
“Sherlock bought it for me. He…well he went to our tailor and ordered it. Told Samuel to style it after my lab coat.” Seraphina smiled a bit as she tucked her hands in the pockets and gestured with her head for John to lead the way, “Sherly mentioned how I was never out of my lab coat when he gave me this. He really is a sweet boy.”  
John smiled, “Seems quite happy to dote on you.”  
“Goes both ways, dear.” Seraphina laughed, “There wasn’t a thing he asked me for that I didn’t try to get him.”  
“Try?” John asked, “It doesn’t seem like there’d be much you couldn’t get him.”  
Seraphina sighed sadly, “There were a few things I couldn’t manage.”  
John smiled, “Probably best he didn’t get everything he asked for.”   
Seraphina nodded, “I did spoil the boy a bit. I wouldn’t change it though. He had to know someone cared.”  
“Were there issues in the family?” John asked before quickly blushing and offering a “If it’s not too personal…”  
“Not personal at all.” Seraphina shook her head, “Anyone who knew us knew there were issues. Vincent never showed to support Sherlock in much, he was always there for Mycroft but when Sherlock’s turn came for awards and recognitions, Vincent couldn’t be bothered. People saw how my eldest child couldn’t be bothered with me and how he held every word my husband spoke as gospel.” Seraphina glanced to the sky as she walked. She stopped for a moment before turning to John, “There was…is a rift that runs through the center of my family, John. Between those who rule and those who discover. My family has never been whole. Never been properly balanced. One side was much too restrained, the other…But you, Doctor John Watson, seem to have brought balance to my son.” She turned to smile at John, “Thank you.”  
There was a very heavy silence for a moment before Seraphina put a hand on John’s shoulder.  
“That was much too serious for a walk to Tesco’s” She laughed, “If you like, I have some rather funny stories of Sherly as a child.”  
“Oh?” John said, interested.  
“Oh, yes.” Seraphina’s grin looked like she was thinking up something beyond embarrassing.  
“Do continue.” John grinned as they entered the shop.

Sherlock was antsy. Oh the chocolate had worked, Mummy did know best after all, but that wore off three hours ago. When John and Seraphina had been gone for two hours on a simple milk run, any help the chocolate had been dissipated in worry. After three hours, Sherlock decided he had to be an idiot. A complete moron, as bad as Anderson (because no one was worse, wasn’t humanly possible). Sherlock barely noticed Colette was anxiously watching the door.  
There was a beep and both of them jumped. Sherlock whipped out his phone and stared at the text.  
I needed a doctor. Hope you don’t mind if I borrow yours. I did warn you after all. –Jim Moriarty xx  
Sherlock scowled. When they’d been gone too long, Sherlock had suspected Moriarty, but this was confirmation. Sherlock quickly responded though.  
What do you want? –SH  
I just want a little chat with dear Dr. Holmes. She’s the one who put you on the side of angels after all. –JM x  
Colette glanced over at him when she heard Sherlock growl at his phone. He was glaring at the object and shaking.  
“It’s that madman you were talking about.” Colette said matter-of-factly, “He got both of the doctors then?”   
“Of course he did!” Sherlock yelled, “And I let them walk right into it.” Sherlock glared at his phone before resorting to his least favorite option. Moriarty wasn’t going to give him clues with this one.  
Mummy is in danger. –SH  
Sherlock had to wait only a few moments before he received the reply.  
I did tell her she should leave. I’ll have someone check the footage. –MH  
Sherlock glared at his phone again before he reluctantly sat down on his chair. Mycroft wouldn’t contact him until he had something. He could only hope that was quickly.

(AN: Honestly, thought about ending it here…but then I saw how short this was…so, you’ll get a bit more…)

When Seraphina opened her eyes she was disoriented. She was surrounded by cold blackness. Of course, when she tried to move she felt that her arms were bound, her feet weren’t though, so she sat up and crossed her legs. She shifted back until she was leaning against a wall. She tried to get comfortable, but with her hands pressed between her back and the wall it was hard. So she scooted along the wall until she was in a corner, her hands tucked in the space it provided. Once she’d situated herself, she began the all too familiar process of…processing.  
The last thing she remembered was exiting the Tesco’s by Baker Street with milk and John. She shifted through her head, trying to pick up the path from there to here. She remembered…John, collapsing in front of her. A prick in her arm…then…blurs fading to nothing.  
The prick. Probably something from a tranquilizer gun. They’d knocked her out, her and John. They’d taken them somewhere. Captives, obviously. And Moriarty most likely, unless her son had other enemies who were interested in her.  
So, held captive by a maniac who was obsessed with her son. That’s a new one. Mostly the fact of who her captor was more than anything else. Sherlock’s friend was here as well. Could be to further agitate Sherlock, or mere collateral. She wasn’t sure; she hadn’t interacted with Moriarty before. John had though…in any case, this will be processed more later.  
Wait…John. Where was John? The boy –no, man, neither he nor Sherlock were boys any more– didn’t seem to be in this room with her. Not that she could see…and there was quite a bit of ambient noise, though it was muffled. In any case, he most definitely wasn’t conscious. It might be too loud for her to hear breathing, but shifting, especially on this surface, with all its loose pebbles and echoing walls, would be notable.  
Seraphina paused for only a moment, listening as well as she could. Age had dulled her ears slightly, as age did, but she could make out…There! A shift. Someone was in here with her, probably John. She’d found him, probably…  
Next, surroundings. Where were they. The ground was a dirt…stone? It was a natural, and hard type of floor, with small rocks every so often. There wasn’t any light though. No…it wasn’t ‘not any’ it was ‘not much’. There was some light. Seraphina looked for its source and saw, in the corner farthest from her, what looked like wooden planks in the ceiling with light shining through. Her eyes were adjusting much too slowly. Could be the tranquilizer, or whatever they used. Now that her eyes had adjusted well enough she could see a shape on the other side of the room. It definitely assured her that John was here with her.  
Seraphina breathed slowly in and out and in again. She held it for a moment before quickly exhaling. So…cellar of some kind. It was most definitely cold enough to be one. There weren’t any shelves or anything to indicate another purpose, so it was probably used to store people like this often.  
Seraphina heard another shift and waited for John to wake fully. He’d probably surmise what was happening quickly. This was the kind of thing the military trained people for. She was pretty sure…not like she knew much about the military, be it army, navy, or air force. That was politics. Knowledge that Mycroft or Vincent would have. She’d never had need for it. She’d done autopsies on military men, could pick one from the crowd should she need to, her dear son had told her how to do it when he was thirteen, but as to what they were trained in…she had never needed to know.  
It took five minutes for John to speak.  
“Seraphina?” She heard him whisper.  
“Yes.” She said with a nod, “I’d say Moriarty was a few steps ahead of my dear son…”  
John chuckled, “You sound like it hurts to say that.”  
Seraphina huffed, “Sherlock doesn’t get out thought. I’m sure he has something in mind.”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure, dear Dr. Mummy Holmes.” Said a very…distinctive voice from the other opposite corner of the room. With a few steps and a click, the room was filled with light. After a minute to blink her eyes into adjusting she saw the man, and heard John confirm his identity.  
“Moriarty.”


	7. Captivity

“You’re that Jim Moriarty boy?” Seraphina said, “I must say, you are quite dramatic.”  
The man scoffed, “Don’t talk to me about dramatic. Not when both of your sons have the market cornered in that respect.”  
Seraphina just hummed at that, smile twitching at her lips.  
“You’re awfully calm.” Moriarty commented, “You haven’t been held hostage because of dear Sherlock before, have you?”  
Her smile grew from twitching lips to a smirk and she leaned further into the wall, “I’m surprised you don’t know. I’d expect someone who can compete with my son would do some research. Did you kidnap me without knowing about me?” She laughed, “Just wanted to scare my son? Didn’t think about who you were taking into your lovely hostage room? Very nice by the way, quite intimidating, cold, dark, very nice indeed. Almost like on telly.”  
“You’re mocking me.” Moriarty said flatly.  
Seraphina just calmly tilted her head to the side, “Why would I mock you? You, the big bad consulting criminal, and quite a well-dressed young man I’ll admit. Not my favorite designer by far, but would you be surprised to know my husband used to be quite fond of Westwood himself?” She glanced towards the ceiling before her eyes returned to Moriarty, “Unless you can think of a reason I’d mock you, Jimmy.”  
“Jimmy?” John whispered to her.  
“Oh.” Moriarty said while he slowly shook his head, “You’re playing some game, Dr. Mummy Holmes.”  
“Dear boy, choose one title or the other, both is a bit too formal.” Seraphina laughed, “And sounds just a tad ridiculous. Usually people use Dr. Holmes, if that helps.”  
“It does, Mummy Holmes.” Moriarty said with a smile, “and this is going to be fun.”

Sherlock, having finally finished berating himself for his bout of idiocy (for now at least), managed to call Mycroft. His brother would have the CCTV footage from near the Tesco’s, where his mummy and John were headed. Mycroft had even said he’d have the footage at 221B before the sun was down. Though the sun seemed close to the end of its decent and Mycroft still hadn’t shown. Nor had any of his lackeys. Sherlock was pacing viciously through the flat waiting for that footage.  
Mycroft did, in fact, show, but it had taken much too long for Sherlock’s liking.  
“I couldn’t drop everything for this, Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed at his brother’s glare, “Mother can handle herself.”  
“Mummy,” Sherlock stressed the word to remind his brother of their mummy’s problems with the word ‘mother’ “has now been unaccounted for, for twelve hours.”   
“And I’m sure Moriarty won’t kill her.” Mycroft said, “She’s much too valuable to him for that.”  
Sherlock sent another glare at his brother contemplating things worse than death that Moriarty could bestow upon Mummy. Colette even chose to comment on such things.  
“You should know that there are things worse than dying, Mycroft Holmes.” She growled.  
“And you,” Myrcoft said, looking down his nose at Colette, “Should know Mother isn’t unused to being taken unwillingly.”  
“This isn’t some ransom ‘napping.” Colette growled, “They aren’t just going to demand money or a certain political shift. These aren’t your kind of people Mycroft.”  
Mycroft looked unmoved to the point of irritating Colette more. Sherlock sent a final glare to his brother before searching through the CCTV footage. Mycroft had, in fact managed to collect only footage of Mummy and John as they were on their way to Tesco’s. It was a tedious fifteen minute walk. They were talking and at the start it was serious, but it quickly devolved into Mummy speaking and John laughing with occasional comments. They disappeared from sight when they entered Tesco’s and the shots of the front of the building gave no hints. When the pair exited the building there was a moment before John fell to the ground then, while people were rushing around to see if John was okay, Mummy collapsed too. An ambulance appeared just a tad too soon for it to have come from an actual call. Moriarty had planted it close by, then. When the pseudo-paramedics pulled the two of them into the ambulance Sherlock stopped the footage.  
He rewound to before John collapsed. The quality of the footage was poor, but…Sherlock could make out something flying across the screen towards John, and a similar something flying towards Mummy moments later.  
“Tranquilizers.” Sherlock muttered. Moriarty had placed someone in front of Tesco’s with tranquilizers, then picked them up in an ambulance. He had abducted the two doctors right off the street. Not surprising coming from Moriarty, not really, but it did prove troublesome. The ambulance was heading west, the CCTV followed it out of the city, but there wasn’t much surveillance after that.  
Sherlock sat and thought for a moment. It was possible that the ambulance had turned around back into the city but Sherlock decided that it was probably headed for a property outside of London where Moriarty had more space around him to maneuver.  
“They aren’t in London.” Sherlock said to the other two in the room, “Moriarty must have some property outside of London where he took them. Or someone he employs does.”  
“That’s quite a bit of data to sort through Sherlock.” Mycroft commented.  
“I know.” Sherlock growled.

Seraphina was gazing at the ceiling of the little hostage room. Moriarty had left a while ago. Meaning it was just John and her in the little cellar. Seraphina was absently wondering how long they’d been here. When she asked John as much he replied with a simple why.  
“Hmm…I have medications.” She told him, “I’m supposed to take them every evening before I go to bed. I’m wondering how long I have until the levels of them in my blood stream decrease to where they aren’t affective.”  
“How long does that usually take?” John asked  
Seraphina thought, “About thirty-six hours after a dose.” She stated, “I took the last one last night because I’d brought the bottle with me in my coat, but I left it at your flat when we went for the milk.”  
“Meaning you have, what? Twenty hours before they wear off.” John sighed, “Wonderful. And what happens when you aren’t taking your meds?”  
“Oh…my serotonin levels decrease…” Seraphina shrugged, “It’s not like I’d die, I’m not quite that dependent on pharmaceuticals yet, I’m just…much less agreeable.”  
“That’s…just…wonderful. Bloody wonderful.” John quipped  
Seraphina smiled comfortingly at him, “It’s not too bad. It’s noticeable though…or Vincent and Mycroft insist it’s noticeable. I’m sure Sherlock would too if-“  
“If he wasn’t such a sickening Mummy’s boy.” Moriarty popped off from the entrance of the cellar.  
“Yes, well not everyone in the world ends up killing their mothers.” Seraphina stated, “Though I can’t deny that I considered the option from time to time myself, unlike you I didn’t act on it because about when I was seriously considering it my dear mother was diagnosed with her death. I did do my best to prevent my sons from mulling over thoughts of my death, at least by their hands.” She paused for a moment before stating, “Mycroft may have thought of the benefits my death would bring to Vincent and himself...but those could only be attained if neither of them killed me…the boy is nothing if not opportunistic, though.”  
Moriarty tilted his head while he contemplated Seraphina, “Not even Sherlock’s figured out that I killed my mother…”  
Seraphina hummed quietly, “My boy’s never been one for the distant past unless it’s something in his own that sticks out, and I’d say you managed that little goal of yours a good ten or fifteen years ago, before you were a consulting criminal. You managed to convince everyone your…cousin I believe, did it. Weren’t too fond of that cousin either were you? But they were your only living family, so you tend to get submerged in your…business I supposed it could be called, without the distraction relatives cause.” Seraphina blinked at Moriarty, “Jimmy, do tell me that this isn’t a surprise.”  
“I did expect something from you Mummy Holmes.” Moriarty stated, “But this is quite fun.”  
“Is it?” Seraphina asked absently her mind on a new track, “Most people don’t enjoy psychoanalysis. You wanted to kidnap me to prove a point to Sherlock about the uselessness of familial attachments. Getting John as well helped broaden the spectrum to attachments in general.” Her comment was quiet, and Moriarty could see she was simply piecing it together out loud.  
“Right you are, Mummy dearest.” Moriarty sang.  
“Hmm…you’ve been misled if you believe that, Jimmy.” Seraphina commented, “From the point of view of a Psychologist, attachments to others are quite detrimental to a person’s psychological stability, especially the attachments to an individual’s parents or parental figures. Of course, someone who genuinely has an ASPD wouldn’t be capable of seeing that, so truly I’m wasting my breath. Speaking of breath, I believe the temperature down here is quite co-operative to the idea of one or both of use developing bronchitis or hypothermia or another such illness, are you aware?” she punctuated this statement with a single hacking cough.  
“Oh quite aware Mummy Holmes.” Moriarty sang, “It helps ensure Sherlock keeps to the time limit.”  
“Hmm…lovely.” Seraphina hummed, “What is my son’s time limit?”  
“Huh…” Moriarty stopped for a moment, “From a medical perspective, how long would it take you to die of that little cough of yours?”  
“I’m fairly certain that my little cough is simply bronchitis, and I myself have been able to muddle through that for a week and a half and not be near dying, then again…” Seraphina leaned against her corner again, “The conditions here are much more in favor of worsening the illness…” John noticed Seraphina must be doing calculations in her head that would lead most doctors to headaches with all the unusual variables to account for. She spoke up a few moments later though, “It would still take a week to die from my bronchitis.”  
“Oh?” Moriarty murmured, “Then I guess Sherlock has a week. Maybe less if I grow board. Honestly don’t think he’ll make it.” With that he turned to leave. His farewell came in a bout of coughing from Seraphina.  
“Bit of a prat.” Seraphina muttered. John just shook his head, but he rushed over to the woman when he heard the hacking cough rear its ugly head. John was quite worried for her. He scooted himself over next to her. Warmth was something they both needed right now, and body heat was the only method available.  
“Be careful.” Seraphina sighed, “Wouldn’t want you catching this too.”  
John huffed a laugh, “I’m a bit more sturdy than that.” He said  
Seraphina shook her head slightly but ended up slumping against John.  
“Stupid prat.” Seraphina murmured.  
“I agree completely.” John laughed. Seraphina smiled at him.  
“At least you’ve kept your humor.” She stated, “Usually that doesn’t last long.”  
John looked at the top of Seraphina’s head as it lay against his good shoulder, “How are you so knowledgeable about kidnappings?”  
Seraphina chuckled, “I’ve been related to the British Government for quite a few years now.” She told John, “The ones that think they’re clever kidnap me and send a note to either Vincent or Mycroft demanding a ransom of some sort.” She explained, “A certain legislation passed, offensive or defensive plans, sometimes just a few pounds. They never get what they want.” Seraphina sighed in nostalgia, “Usually they get Scotland Yard barging through their front door.”  
John shook his head, “So who finds them?” He asked  
“Sherly. Vincent and Mycroft can’t be bothered usually, so they’ll send word to Sherly and he finds where I’m being kept. It’s nearly routine.” Seraphina stated, “Not this though. Moriarty doesn’t want anything but to make Sherlock hurt.”  
“Sherlock’s not different though.” John said with confidence, “He’ll still find us. I mean, Sherlock’s solved Moriarty’s puzzles in less than six hours before. And now he has a week.”  
Seraphina nodded. Sherlock wouldn’t let her down. She knew that. Sherlock was one person she had always been able to rely on. Sherlock will find them. She knew it. She just…she just had to wait.  
Another round of hacking coughs racked her body and she leaned her head on John’s shoulder. The world quickly went black around her.


End file.
